Fire Alone Can Save Our Clan
by Catapult Turtle
Summary: Just make sure the kits don't touch it! A rewritten version of Into the Wild, in a world where Firepaw is named after Longtail's burning coat, Graypaw is a Nobel Peace Prize winner, Spottedleaf is a gangsta, and craziness is at every corner!
1. Prologue: Storyteller

Not enough Warrior humor fics out there. Legends change over time. After a while, they become so twisted, they are barely recognizable. Welcome to a rewrite of extrordianry proportions. Welcome to a Prophecy that's been mutilated over all those years. Welcome to Fire Alone Can save Our Clan: Just Make Sure the Kits Don't Touch it!**  
**

**Fire Alone Can Save Our Clan: **

**Just Make Sure the Kits Don't Touch it!**

**Prologue: Storyteller**

Turtlekit, a young she-cat, yawned as she walked into the clearing. She was hoping to get a story from the elders today. Three other kits toppled over her instead.

"Ger'off!" Turtlekit screeched. "I wanna go to the elder's and hear a story!"

"That's a good idea!" another ThunderClan kit, Rosekit, mewed.

"Let's go!" agreed Bluekit.

"But I want to stay and beat everyone up!" wailed Saberkit. But everyone had already left the ThunderClan clearing and was heading to the elders' den. "Why don't they listen to me?" Inner Saberkit asked. "I have good ideas… Ach, those foxdungs are already there. Might as well go." He followed along scornfully.

"Mudpelt, tell us a story!" Turtlekit whined to the grumpy roused elder.

"Yeah!" all of the other kits demanded.

"I'm becoming too old to be an elder," Mudpelt, a tortoiseshell tom, growled. "How about the story of Firepaw?"

"Okay!" Turtlekit meowed excitedly.

"Very well," he began. "This is ThunderClan's story…

Moonlight lit the rocks of the RiverClan border with a somewhat eerie glow. The smooth washed rocks gleamed, unaware of the madness that would occur so soon. Ah. Here it comes now.

Tigerclaw brought himself up close to another cat on the RiverClan side; a bracken colored tom. "Oakheart!" he barked in sharp demand. "You know you're not allowed to be in ThunderClan territory!"

"Tigerclaw, you know very well I dropped the key to Atlantis here last Thursday!" he growled back. "It's always at Sunningrocks! It's so slippery here."

"Well… I don't care. ThunderClan, attack!" Tigerclaw bowled over Oakheart easily.

Suddenly, a screech erupted from the clearing. "Oh, dear little ol' me!" Mousefur cried as a RiverClan cat rather embarrassedly bit at her tail. "Someone save me! I'm just a young little warrior! Oh, don't turn and pay attention everyone. My tail is fine!"

Tigerclaw scoffed and muttered something about "drama queens" and "squirrels taste best in leaf-bare." As every cat stopped and watched, he picked up the attacker in his jaws and threw him into the river.

"Now you can start attacking again," he informed the watching crowd before going off to Oakheart. They did some sissy fighting moves not of any real mention, and Redtail was becoming increasingly bored from his perch.

"Guys, this is just lame to open the story," he yawned. "Who wants to go back to ThunderClan and gossip about how cats keep believing in a Whitestorm/Bluestar pairing?"

The RiverClan cats stopped again, a little annoyed as the other cats looked nervously at each other, most nodding and raising their paws and tails. Well, except for Tigerclaw.

"I've already told you Whitestorm and Bluestar don't like each other," he growled, exasperated.

"Atlantis may not be lost!" Oakheart suddenly excitedly whispered, with many other RiverClanners brightening.

"Well, Tigey, majority wins," Redtail said with a flick of the tail. "Let's get going gossiping then.

Furiously, Tigerclaw looked at the RiverClanners as they undug the sacred key to Atlantis. Darn them. He so wanted to get to Atlantis next week and buy some cupcakes. "Now my sugar cravings will never cease," he muttered. Looking up to Redtail, he added, "And I am NOT planning to murder you!"

"Hey Bluey! What's up with my Home dawg?" A pretty tortoiseshell leapt out of the bushes to her grayish leader, Bluestar, who was staring up at the sky in the clearing of ThunderClan camp. "Waiting on StarGang again?"

"Times like these we need StarClan's guidance," 'Bluey' sniffed. "How're the others, Spottedleaf?"

"Chillin'. Maybe StarGang's gonna give us a good rap for once."

"I hope so," Bluestar murmured. "I can't believe my warriors returned to talk about weird pairings involving their own leader! What have I done wrong?"

Spottedleaf suddenly produced an accordion from her den as she sang:

You fell in love with a RiverClan cat,

Gave your kits; your greed was fat,

You didn't listen to Fireheart,

We could always put this on a chart!

You jumped into a gorge with dogs,

Weren't there as Twolegs gathered logs,

You let Tigerclaw become deputy,

You handled everything stupidly!

And then you died,

Then you died,

And no one cared!

Because your death was fared!

And Mistyfoot and Stonefur,

Hate their real mother!

Kind of like Star Wars in a way!

And no one cares your dying day!

"I get the point!" Blustar snarled before she got to verse five. "But I still want a message from StarClan."

"Wait," Spottedleaf said suddenly as a shooting star flashed across the sky. Her fur bristled and she looked up in awe. Bluestar sat by but said nothing.

"StarGang has spoken," she gasped. "Fire alone can save our clan…"

"What does it-'' Bluestar began but didn't finish as Spottedleaf bopped her on the muzzle.

"I'm not finished yet! Fire alone can save our clan, just make sure the kits don't touch it!"

Bluestar's expression fell into a scowl. "Uh, no one likes fire."

"StarClan is better than you," Spottedleaf pointed out in a not so lightly way.

"Fine," Bluestar relented reluctantly. "You've only been wrong four times before, Spottedleaf. Fire will save the clan, as long as the kits don't touch it."

* * *

Hope ya like it Next chapter's gonna come up soon, with random mice, ownage, stalking and Nobel Peace Prizes! 


	2. Chapter 1: Mice Aren't Nice

Insanity ensues! --cripples from excitement-- To fully understand parts of this, I recommend you find the SNL rap of "Chronicwhatcles of Narnia." Don't worry, it's not rude or anything, but extremely random. But this part at least makes a little more sense when you watch the short. HAVE FUN WITH THIS WEEKLY DOSE OF CRACK! 

**Chapter 1: Mice Aren't Nice**

"… That is the prophecy that first awakened ThunderClan," Mudpelt informed lazily.

"So the next part is where they fall into the time machine and defeat Darth Vader, the Evil Twoleg, right?" Saberkit asked brightly. Mudpelt looked incredulous.

"Who told you that?" he asked sharply.

"Uh, you did actually," Turtlekit pointed out. "Yesterday."

"Well, that's because I wanted to, um… uh…" Mudpelt swerved his paw, trying to find the word he was looking for.

"It's okay to lie," Bluekit chirped.

"He's so cute when he's stupid," Rosekit murmured dreamily.

"ANYWAY," Mudpelt interrupted. "That's the prophecy. The kittypet we know as Rusty first joined the Clan in a peculiar way…

Rusty scanned the dark forest with his brilliant green eyes. He was bored and lost and felt like going home. Yet he walked on, a sound ahead bringing his paws forward on silent haunches.

Some to this day say it was StarClan themselves calling Rusty. Some say it was the caterwaul of either a dying warrior or a dying badger. Some say it was the sound of a voles's feet scuttling on the forest floor. But it is believed it was a mouse that Rusty heard.

The ginger tom crouched, ready to lunge into the clearing and claim the mouse's life. He wasn't that hungry—not as hungry as he could be. He lunged in a swift motion and jumped on top squarely, licking his lips hungrily.

"Look, if you're going to pounce on someone, why me?" Rusty gave a small jump of surprise. The mouse was talking!

"You think I have it hard enough, with owls and foxes and Twolegs around," the mouse chattered angrily. "And then there's my wife and my thirty-two teenagers who couldn't help less. And I'm bowled over by some stupid kittypet. This is just so stupid."

Rusty didn't know what to say. "Who are you?" he asked unsteadily.

"Your worst nightmare!" the mouse squeaked as he began to morph and twist in terrible shapes! It was obvious he was turning into an evil dog, slobbering and blood lusting! And Rusty was trapped in his dreams! He closed his eyes, scared to death.

Nothing happened for a while. He opened his eyes and realized the mouse was gone, probably safe in its burrow by now.

"You just got owned," the stars seemed to laugh above him. But of course, stars don't talk.

"Oh, shut up," Rusty murmured as he woke up into the real world.

One of his Twoleg owners was lazily dropping his food pellets into his bowl; although much more ended up on the floor. Then the Twoleg, listening to some cursed earphones, filled his water bowl up too high before clearly humming that Mr. Pibb plus Red Vines equaled crazy delicious. Rusty stepped out to eat the scattered food as his owner continued to hum that it was gonna reach in its pocket and pull out some dough, and that the girl acted like she'd never seen a ten before.

As the Twoleg murmured something about Chronicwhatcles of Narnia, Rusty reminded himself to avoid his owner's computer tonight. He ate some more of the dry food, wishing he hadn't been outwitted by the mouse earlier. More importantly, he wished he hadn't been outwitted by an imaginary mouse.

He walked through the garden, pretending he was a flamingo. As a flamingo, Rusty "flew" to the top of the fence, surveying the world beyond. His Twolegs seemed to be calling him—it was either them or they had the computer volume up again. The last time they did that to the computer, the neighbors threw eggs at the house, and Rusty had watched as his owners retaliated by dropping the other Twoleg's cupcakes in their garbage disposal.

Rusty decided to stay out tonight. His Twolegs would be up half the night typing strange characters on their computer and laughing out loud while Rusty tried to get some sleep. Or they might listen to Twolegs screeching about cupcakes to a catchy beat. Or they might squash him with the keyboard. No, Rusty was perfectly content where he was. Well, not exactly.

His flamingo instinct caused his curiosity. He flew off the garden post to the ground, his collar's bell ringing as he did. Rusty's flamingo instinct made him gallop like an idiot towards the woods, until a voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Are you off to find Atlantis again Rusty?" Rusty whipped around to see Smudge, a friendly black-and-white kitten.

He momentarily wondered why he was friends with Smudge before huffing indignantly, "I just want to go look into the forest."

"You know it's dangerous!" Smudge began. "It's filled with evil wildcats, raging rivers and horrible she-cats! They'll eat you alive! Then your owners will have nothing to do with your food but give it to me…" His voice trailed away in apparent indecision. "I change my mind, Rusty. Go ahead out there! You might want to get some mouse-scent on your pelt before you go." He licked his lips. "Think of all the food your Twolegs will be giving me when they realize you're gone…"

Rusty shrugged. "But don't touch my squeaky rubber mousy when I'm gone!" he warned before running into the shade provided from the canopy.

He listened intently. Maybe Rusty'd get lucky for once and find a mouse. But of course, he's been known to have quite the luck. Such was the case.

He fell into the right crouch through absolute randomness and began to creep forward to the rodent. And almost to mock him, the mouse whirled around. With a powerful tackle, the mouse had slammed Rusty to the ground, and he now found himself flailing before the cute, cuddly critter. He tried to wheel away, but this was a mouse, after all. He stopped suddenly with an idea, He seemed to freeze for a few seconds as the mouse looked quite triumphant.

Rusty whirled up and began to run for—well not exactly his life… so, he just ran… Or something… like that… Yeah…

He knew he would never be able to escape from the mouse. It was too strong. Rusty turned. If it were going to be a fight, he'd face it like the fat overfed kittypet he was! The mouse rammed into him, causing Rusty to lose balance, but he was able to crush the mouse quite badly on the way down.

The rodent scampered off, wheezing from loss of breath before collapsing, regaining posture, and beginning to groom.

"Hello kittypet!" the mouse chirped suddenly, removing any sense of hostility, and licking its paws calmly. Rusty blinked.

"I've just been shown up by a mouse," he echoed. "Wait a minute, what was the entire point of that?"

"Beats me, I assumed you knew what the heck we were doing," the mouse said. "Uh oh, I smell cat. Gotta run!" And with that, he ran into the brush.

A gray kitten popped out of the bushes. "Wow!" he exclaimed with wide amber eyes. "You defeated that mouse! This deserves a Nobel Peace Prize, nominated by me, Graypaw of ThunderClan!"

"I want an Emmy!" Rusty cried before running again. Graypaw was not far behind with the Peace Prize, though.

"But I want to give you this useless hunk of metal," Graypaw whined back. And with that, he threw it at Rusty, causing a mild concussion. "Oops. Peace Prize my tail! This shiny award's a murderer!" Graypaw suddenly realized something. SHINY! He batted it, entranced with full stupidity of a kit.

"Don't tell me you've killed another one, Graypaw," a blue-gray she-cat growled as she strolled into the scene. "My StarClan, you're freakin' six moons old and a mass murderer! What do you have to say for yourself!"

"Yeah," added a golden tabby as he walked in too. "Darn it, how did you win that piece of metal anyway?"

"Lionheart, you know I'm the discoverer of the discoverer of the discovery of the fact that the universal answer is forty-two," Graypaw pointed out. "And this cat's not dead. Just, uh… not living… currently… kind of, sort of… not really… okay! I killed him! But it was an accident!"

Bluestar sighed. "I'm surrounded by idiots."

Rusty opened his eyes. He didn't feel very good. He felt like a piece of metal had been thrown at high speeds and caused a mild concussion. He turned his head and realized a piece of metal had been thrown at high speeds and caused a mild concussion. "I'm alive," Rusty pointed out lightly, standing up.

"Okay," Bluestar began. "Blah, blah, blah, good fighting skills, blah, blah, blah, good eyes, blah, laddyda, would have caught the mouse should you not have been being chased by it, blah, blah, blah, never enough to go around, blah, blah, menacing growl, blah." By the end of her speech, Bluestar looked furious, and towered above Rusty with the other cats.

"This sucks," Rusty thought aloud. "I only got to live for six months!"

That's when Graypaw realized how shiny the Nobel peace prize looked in the moonlight, leaving the angered ThunderClan members as he pawed it halfway the clearing at the almost unnoticed fox.

Guess who's on a sugar high? Best time for writing this sort of stuff though. And thanks to my reviewers. Love ya guys, you're really great --Thumbs Up!-- See yah next hyperish time!


	3. Chapter 2: We all Knew it would Happen

I had to change the actual shown chapter name because ff wouldn't fit it. This one isn't as funny, but the chapter was short.

**Chapter 2: "We All Knew it was Going to Happen"**

Turtlekit listened, her ears which were too large for her head still pointing at the elder.

"Graypaw will face many challenges later on," Mudpelt mewed. "Well, not in this tale… But anyway—'' He was cut off by a shaggy gray kit who had entered the circle clumsily.

"Oh, what did I miss?" the ThunderClan kit asked excitedly, his eyes blaring with excitement.

"You missed your intelligence, Wolfkit," Saberkit growled sarcastically. "It's still in the apprentices' den. It's kind of squishy, sort of like a squash."

"Saberkit," Rosekit mewed with a raised rose-colored paw.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

Turtlekit rolled her eyes. _We're all mad here._

"So how far have you gotten?" Wolfkit asked, getting back on topic.

"Just where Rusty meets Bluestar and Lionheart," Bluekit informed like a good kitty cat.

"So this must be the part where Gandalf the Gray and Gandalf the White and Monty Python and the Holy Grail's Black Night come out of nowhere lightning fast," Wolfkit mewed. "I remember hearing this yesterday.

Mudpelt nervously looked to the side before hastily mewing, "Uh, on with the story!"

"You're a threat to our Clan!" Bluestar announced fiercely. "You steal our food and prompt our apprentices to become mass-murderers!"

"What she said!" Lionheart agreed, before becoming extremely interested in the soil between his claws.

"Threat?" Rusty said incredulously. "If anyone's a threat, it's Graypaw!" Bluestar was about to say something when she realized Rusty was exactly right.

"That was weird," Bluestar said. "You were actually correct."

"Cool!" Graypaw was not far away pawing at a flamethrower that hung from a tree.

"Dear StarClan!" Bluestar sighed. "Lionheart, you do something about him. He is your apprentice."

"Hey, the only reason I'm here is to make you look good," Lionheart growled. "What would ThunderClan be without the blundering idiotic bossy warrior who's trying to suck up in hopes of being deputy? Huh?"

"He's got a point," Rusty agreed.

Bluestar wanted to deny it, but it was true. Sadly true. How did she become the leader of these dolts anyway? "You fell in love with a RiverClan cat, gave your kits; your greed was fat…" She flipped her head to see Spottedleaf taunting her with that accordion of hers.

"You're not even supposed to be here," Bluestar told the tortoiseshell medicine cat in a sharpish way.

"Aw Bluey, don't be a player hater," Spottedleaf whined.

"She's prettyful!" Firepaw said spontaneously. "Wait—I wasn't supposed to say that aloud!"

"Oh! Shiny!" Graypaw had gotten the flamethrower to work, and now the fire was blowing at the dusty ground. He stuck his paw in expectantly, watching little cinders fall from his paw until it had become grayish-black.

"And that's why they call him Graypaw," Lionheart meowed as he joined his apprentice and knocked the flamethrower over a fence and onto some Twoleg's prize watermelon with a sizzle and a splut.

"Hey!" Graypaw said, discouraged as he gathered his Noble Peace Prize and padded away from his mentor with mild disdain.

"Anyway, since you're here," Bluestar said to Rusty. "Want to join those idiots for a purpose that I don't really care about?"

Rusty thought about it. What if Smudge stole his rubber mousy while he was gone! "A warrior's life is a difficult one," Spottedleaf added. "Not that'd I know. I'm just some medicine cat filler who gets killed early on!"

"How do you know that stuff?" Bluestar asked.

"Got connections with my dead homies," Spottedleaf answered with a flick of the tail. "And Kate Cary," she coughed. "And Chedrith Baldry cough cough."

"Hm, how about I answer you tomorrow?" Rusty asked. "Then I'll have enough time to hide my rubber mousy and hide my Twolegs' car keys."

"Fine," Bluestar answered. "Did you know you're still a tom?"

"Yeah."

"Yep. You're definitely a tom."

"Uh-hu."

"A male cat. Not some she-cat like me."

"Nope."

"Yep."

"Uh-hu."

"How about Lionheart coming to pick you up tomorrow?" Bluestar asked offpawedly. "You're obviously going to say yes. We all knew this was going to happen."

"Yep."

"Rusty?"

"Yep."

"RUSTY!"

"Oh, what?" Rusty said, snapping alert.

"You stopped paying attention to me. That's not good."

"Oh. Right."

"Well, see ya tomorrow."

"Okay."

"Bye, Rusty!" Spottedleaf shouted before ducking down into the woods.

"Bye shiny—I mean Rusty!" Graypaw said, being moved along my Lionheart.

"I'm important!" Lionheart said ignobly as he continued to leave majestically.

"Goodbye Rusty!" Bluestar yelled last. "I hope to see you soon at ThunderClan."

"Bye!" Rusty called back, wondering what the entire point of that was.

After all, it was obvious he was going to join ThunderClan. Rusty used his finely honed flamingo instincts to jump up on the fence and fly through the house to his bed. He lay down in a tight cuddle and closed his eyes in hopes of sleep.

His green eyes suddenly shot open. "Oh. My. Gosh," he realized. "I just went INTO THE WILD!"

* * *

I'll try to incorporate something German in the next chap! See ya then! 


	4. Chapter 3: Dawgpaw, Gpaw and Strangefoot

I updated :o Hope you like it, not much tosay. This chapter was long, but I finished it in one night! 

**Chapter 3: Dawgpaw, Gpaw and Strangefoot**

Rusty slept his usual forest dream. He sat, ready to pounce on the rodent about two tail-lengths away. Then—

"Yo, how's it going, dawg?" Spottedleaf spontaneously yelled with her accordion in her paws. It was playing some weird kind of sound which made Fire—I mean Rusty want to roll over and die.

"I like to move it move, I like to move it move it, I like to move it move it… I like to… MOVE IT!" she screeched in the most horrendous voice to suit her prim spotted tortoiseshell paws before the mouse ran off with a sign that, if Rusty was able to read, read: 'I don't like to move it!'

Rusty woke up. _Weird_, was really the only thought he had about the dream as he looked around the kitchen. It really was a great kitchen. Where else could he lap up coffee, soda and eat ice cream when no one was paying attention? Yeah, he was sure going to miss the kitchen. Ignoring the fresh pellets and water, Rusty pulled himself up to the poorly guarded leftover pizza in the fridge before walking out the cat flap.

He sniffed the air, looked both ways, and threw his rubber mousy under the mat. No one would ever think to look under there. Then he went back in, stole his Twolegs' car keys and put them in the gutter before hopping up on the fence.

"Hi Rusty!" Smudge greeted as he materialized from Book 6. "You were right—that new replacement she-cat was way better than you!" Rusty was about to remind him he never said that, even in a normal world, but Book 6 Smudge disappeared before he could let out a single meow. Almost as randomly, Book 1 Smudge came up on the fence, giving a small greeting. "There were birds out today," he said.

"There are birds every day," Rusty pointed out.

"Oh… yeah… Well… I already ate!"

"Sure," Rusty said, remembering to not wish him luck when that new she-cat came.

"You woke up late today," Smudge added dully. "You would've caught some birds if you hadn't. Punctuality equals Clan loyalty, you know."

"Hey…"

"Well, you guys were practically yelling it all over the place! Like you want some passing Twolegs to think, 'Hey that's an idea, let's make a two-authored 6-book series about it and then make another one when they start talking again.' Honestly, it was like there was a flamethrower there or something!"

"Emmy!" Rusty cried. "I admit! I didn't get the Emmy!"

"In that case, let's spend one more day together before you join the Clan!" Smudge replied as they went off to say bye to their lazy kittypet friends.

And then Smudge left. Many a storyteller has left the leaving dialogue blank. This is due to two things; it's never really mentioned before and we storytellers are lazy. And so, we assume they had this really big farewell party and then Rusty went back to the clearing, drunk on artisan cheese. However, we can never really know.

At that, Mudpelt stopped thoughtfully. "The next part always makes me hungry… Anyone want to get me fresh-kill?"

There was a cricket chirp as Saberkit coughed twice.

"Let me change that," Mudpelt said. "Get me fresh-kill. NOW."

Once again, there was some more crickets chirping, but Bluekit coughed.

"Kits," Mudpelt murmured before running out taking some prey out of the pile and returning.

"When does Tigerclaw come back in?" Saberkit asked.

"That's not till a little later," Mudpelt replied with a mouth filled with bloody guts.

"What's a flamethrower?" Turtlekit piped up.

"I think it's kind of fish, found only in southern waters," replied Wolfkit knowingly.

Turtlekit thought about it. That made sense to her.

"Done," Mudpelt said as he finished his fresh-kill. "Rosekit, why are you looking at me like that? Hungry?"

"Yep," Rosekit answered. "But I want to hear the rest of the story first."

"I want to beat up everyone, destroy the forest, rebuild it and have a never-ending supply of fresh-kill, but you don't hear me complaining about it," Saberkit said disapprovingly.

"Saberkit?"

"Yeah."

"Shut up. AGAIN."

"Double ownage," Mudpelt jeered before adding, "Back to the story!"

Rusty sat in the middle of the clearing, wishing he had an Emmy. He could smell ThunderClan cats, but he could also smell that particular scent of a potential arsonist (aka Graypaw). He sighed and looked into the bushes. It was already sun-high, and Rusty's fur felt heavy with the summer humidity.

Suddenly, two green eyes were staring back into his own from inside the bush. Rusty blinked. "Let's see… You could be Spottedleaf, myself, or… that other guy…"

"I am Lionheart!" Lionheart declared with full authority as he pranced majestically into the clearing. "I have been charged to bring you to camp. My extreme punctuality will impress Bluestar!"

"But you're late…" Rusty murmured.

"Silence, INFERIOR!" Lionheart growled. "I am not late! Instead, you will have been a slight burden with us on our way back, so we can make up time for this happening."

"We?" Rusty questioned.

"We, as in plural, refers to Lionheart and I." Out from the clearing came a pure white cat. His eyes were supposedly the color of sun-baked sand, but it has been told later on that his eyes were blue. Which meant that later, he had resorted to contact lenses. But for now, his eyes were the yellow of sun-baked sand, framed by huge nerdy glasses. "I am Whitestorm, and I would like to tell you about my Ph.D."

"Ignore him," Lionheart whispered into Rusty's ears. "Nod and smile, and he'll usually go away." Thus, the golden tabby put on a grin and began to nod his maned head as Whitestorm continued to talk—"My best background work is with phi (not to be confused with pi) and its correlation to the universe, spirals and Fibonacci numbers"—

Lionheart eventually looked up at the sun and snarled. "Whitestorm, you idiot! Now we'll have to tell Bluestar that Rusty was extremely slow! I certainly hope my apprentice isn't captured by Twolegs so that I have to take a bad-reputation apprentice!"

"And Graypaw has a good reputation?" Rusty pointed out.

"Hey, he has a Noble Peace Prize," Lionheart pointed out. "Yup, where would he be if I hadn't told him the answers…"

Whitestorm looked like he was about to rebuke that in a paragraph proof, but Lionheart already left for the ThunderClan camp.

Rusty followed. At first, after wading through swamps, romping through the forest, and climbing over logs, Rusty was sure they were just trying to get to camp. But later, after running through burning hoops, jumping over alligator-filled pits and being forced to chug mustard, Rusty just wasn't so sure.

But they managed it to camp, and that was what mattered. Rusty was kind of expecting neon lights into ThunderClan, feeling a tad disappointed as Whitestorm suddenly stopped, pulled up his round glasses and said, "Tell me, using the South Texas K9 Scent Theory, what you can smell using your smell receptors and Jacobson's organ."

Rusty sniffed. "Smells like cats to me."

"That works," Lionheart said in a rushed manner, breaking through the undergrowth and into the sunlit camp. "Welcome to ThunderClan!"

It would have been a Photoshopped masterpiece to any Twoleg. Sunlight fell in all the right places, especially on two cats who were closely grooming each other.

"After sunhigh, we share tongues," Lionheart explained.

"Ew…" was all Rusty could muster. Whitestorm rolled his yellow eyes and muttered something about domesticated kittens before pulling out a graphing calculator in order to determine the beginning of time.

"Over there's the nursery," Lionheart went on. "Kits are nursed there. Or something. I'm not queen, how would I know?"

"Well—'' Whitestorm began, but thought better of it and began erasing his equations. "Anyway, the care of all our kits depends on every queen. They work together in order to make less work for themselves. It also bonds the she-cats together—'' Lionheart smiled and nodded before sniffing the air.

"Bluestar's coming," he said. "Tell me, is there anything stuck between my teeth?" He swirled his extremely sharp pearly whites towards Whitestorm, who cringed back.

"I'm blinded!" he screeched. "The light—the light!"

Lionheart was about to turn and blind Rusty with his shininess when Bluestar came in, blinked and sat down. Rusty could not help but notice how much Lionheart puffed up at the she-cat's arrival.

"So what do you think?" she asked diplomatically.

"He delayed us nine degrees from the sun's original position," Lionheart replied smartly. "If he had chugged that mustard faster—I mean we should still give him a fair chance," the warrior corrected as he watched his leader's position become confused, then normal again.

"Then we're taking him in?" Bluestar asked. Whitestorm stopped twitching to meet his companion's eyes before they both turned their heads to Bluestar and nodded. "I'll give him his ceremony then," Bluestar said, trotting to the Highrock. "Let all cats… forget that. Just get over here."

Rusty stayed where he was, partially watching the gathering cats averting their gaze to Rusty and partially watching Whitestorm roll back up into a sitting position. He saw Graypaw, and Spottedleaf, and a gray tabby with darker stripes that brought words like Traitor-then-not-tratiorfoot to mind. But he remained quiet.

"See that cat?" Bluestar meowed. "He's a kittypet. But now he's a kittypet apprentice. Worship him."

Instead, a tabby yelled, "Let's mercilessly discriminate his lowly origins!"

There was a wail of agreement as several cats began muttering unkind things about Rusty, just because they felt like it. After all, they were Clanborn, not some kittypet like Rusty.

"He has a collar!" the tabby went on. "I'm going to think of something witty and derogatory about it!" And so the tabby began to think of witty and derogatory somethings about the collar.

"He's Longtail," Lionheart informed. "You're starting to make me look bad."

"Uh… You're collar has a bell!" Longtail jeered.

"Why is that bad?" Rusty asked.

"Whitestorm answers those kinds of things," Lionheart replied. "You're ruining my reputation with your relax-scent."

Rusty rolled his eyes and jumped Longtail. Longtail had been busy trying to think of something bad about collars, so he hadn't really been paying attention. Rusty felt bad for himself as Longtail sliced the part above his eye. Things weren't looking good for Rusty.

"Shiny!" Graypaw suddenly yelled, pulling out his flamethrower from behind Spottedleaf. He started it up, shot it at Rusty, and watched it miss perfectly as it burned Longtail. "Yay!" Graypaw cheered, watching the fire grow as Longtail quickly stopped, dropped and rolled. "Hey, more shiny!" Graypaw came up to Rusty and bit his bell until the collar snapped in two.

Bluestar stepped up. "It's a sign I tell you! StarClan wishes him to train with us!" She turned to Spottedleaf and murmured, "What are we calling him?"

"How about Dawgpaw?" Spottedleaf whispered back.

"That won't work," Bluestar hissed.

"Then, Gpaw, maybe?"

"No, no."

"Then at least Gangsterpaw. Or maybe Ghettopaw?"

"Actually, Ghettopaw sounds good enough," Graypaw mewed.

"Forget you guys," Bluestar murmured. She looked at Rusty, who had become the world's best scene, despite the burning Longtail behind him.

"In honor of Longtail's flaming coat," Bluestar announced, "This apprentice will be known as Firepaw until he earns his warrior name."

"Yay! Firepaw!" Graypaw ran over to his friend. "You beat Longtail!"

"Actually—''

"And you're modest too!" Graypaw blurted out. "Since you have one extremely insignificant cut, let's go to Spottedleaf so I can admire her accordion-playing skills!"

"Greetings Firepaw," a silver tabby mewed as he randomly appeared around the corner. "You're lucky that fire started when it did."

"Darkstripe, something tells me you're going to betray ThunderClan and join TigerClan," Graypaw predicted.

Darkstripe lifted his brow in apparent confusion, before turning to get his copy of _Self-management for Dummies._

"He's just jealous that he doesn't have accordion-skills like Spottedleaf," Graypaw explained.

"HIYuh gUYS!" Firepaw swung his head to see a ginger cat with green eyes.

"Who's that?" Firepaw asked Graypaw. The newcomer was banging his head on the ground while singing that he was a little teapot, short and stout.

"Strangefoot," Graypaw murmured. "Spottedleaf said he had problems."

"He doesn't smell like ThunderClan," Firepaw continued. "Where'd he come from?"

"Beats me," Graypaw admitted. "He sort of showed up one day and then we couldn't get him to leave."

Suddenly, a slim cat burst into the clearing. His pelt was black, save his white tail tip, and his green eyes were clearly frightened. "Thouest Bluestar!" the tom yelled. "News of greatest importance must be bestowed to thee!"

"He's Ravenpaw," Graypaw said offhandedly. "Just seeing him makes me want to bat his shiny white tail. Wonder where Tigerclaw is. His eyes are really shiny."

"Tigerclaw?" Firepaw asked.

"He's Ravenpaw's mentor. Although no one's quite sure how Ravenpaw got that funny Shakespearean accent. Maybe it was from Redtail; he does drama sometimes. They were all out patrolling RiverClan's border today."

"Redtail?" Firepaw persisted.

"He's our deputy. I think. I keep thinking that it's Lionheart, Tigerclaw, you, Whitestorm or me for some uncanny reason." Firepaw edged a little away, but looked up as Bluestar made her way to the ebony apprentice.

"What has happened?" She meowed. "Where are the others?"

With the full majesty of a seasoned actor, Ravenpaw placed a forepaw on the top of his head, fell to the ground beneath Bluestar with a terrified expression before yowling as clear as day:

"Good deputic warrior of thy greatest ThunderClan has been slain!"

"What does that mean?" Graypaw asked Firepaw as Ravenpaw gave a dramatic wail and fainted in an even more dramatic way, if it were even possible with a deep dramatic sigh.

"Redtail died," Firepaw translated.

"Oh," Graypaw said. "I wanted to do that!" Firepaw looked at Graypaw curiously before the apprentice suddenly exclaimed, "Wait a minute! That's bad!"

And as Ravenpaw continued to convulse in full acting mode, the clearing became silent to hear the whole story.

The plans for Chapter 4 are looking good ;) Thanks for reading! I'll update whenever I can! W00t for this glorious piece of crack!


	5. Chapter 4: That Guy

Betcha thought I died, huh? My inspiration's been rather down for the past couple of weeks, but right now it is raining, and I write best when it rains. This chapter isn't the funniest, but I must say I'm rather proud of how Sandstorm came out! Enjoy or eat chocolate cake!

**Chapter 4: "That Guy"**

Mudpelt paused, his amber eyes building suspense as the three kits looked at him blankly.

"What happens?" Turtlepaw asked in a quavering voice. "What happened at Sunningrocks, Mudpelt?"

"Tell us!" Wolfkit agreed. "Oh, tell us, Mudpelt before our brains burst in anticipation!"

"Well," Saberkit said from his lonely dusty corner, "Tigerclaw, Redstar and Oakheart were all fighting over in RiverClan when this rock-fall started and Oakheart went splat and then Redtail was like, 'I rock and you know it' and Tigerclaw was all like, 'Oh no you didn't!' and then Ravenpaw sat around in the bushes and was going to ask Tigerclaw what he thought of his chance of filling a position as Macbeth when he realized Tigerclaw was busy killing Redtail so he shut up till he accidentally told everyone at a Gathering and then changed it several times so that Firestar could use it to convince Scourge Tigerclaw was sort of bad, and then he did, and then there were three days, big battle, Firestar lost a life, then Brambleclaw and Squirrelpaw and Tawnypelt and Stormfur and Crowpaw who became Crowfeather and Feathertail who became dead decided to go off and find a new home for the Clans when suddenly they found Midnight, who was a badger and then returned and went back and Graystripe went missing and Sasha said goodbye."

Saberkit took a really, really, really long breath. "Should I go on?"

They gave him the death glare. "Pfft, your brains could've exploded if it weren't for me," Saberkit said dejectedly. "Last time I ever save you guys."

"Well, that was kind of completely spoiling," Mudpelt mewed. "Anyway, want me to continue?"

"Despite the fact we now know every part of the story, I'm trying to delay Wolfkit's apprentice ceremony, so sure," Rosefoot mewed politely. Wolfkit looked almost like he was going to give back a rather nasty retort when Mudpelt resumed talking.

"Very well then… Because it was not all of the Clan who would hear Ravenpaw's story…"

The Clan waited expectantly for Ravenpaw to begin his story.

"My dearest Bluestar of thy finest line of cats ThunderClan hast ever had thou grace of knowing," he groaned. "My wounds are many and stifling… may thy bringeth me to thou medicine cat, thy benign Spottedleaf?"

Bluestar shrugged. "First tell us what happened!" she snapped impatiently.

"Very well, but only for thy ears, my greatest superior Bluestar," Ravenpaw responded with another pained acting groan as he brought up a black paw and began to whisper in her ear.

"What do you think he saying to her, Graypaw? Uh, Graypaw?" Firepaw mewed as he leaned towards his friend. Empty air met his shoulder as he fell to a thirty degree angle. There was a vacant spot where Graypaw normally sat. Firepaw gulped and realized the kit was pawing Ravenpaw's shiny tail, which was causing Ravenpaw to constantly wince and groan as he recalled what had happened that day to his leader.

Spottedleaf walked over and gave a dainty sniff of Ravenpaw. "Ew…" she said to Firepaw. "Ya know what, dawg? I can't stand these actors. They smell like--''

All of a sudden, Tigerclaw gave a yowl and came into camp, his brown tabby fur soaked in blood. Bluestar squinted her eyes. "Clan, get your tails over to the Highrock!" Firepaw shrugged and obeyed as Graypaw stayed muttering, "Precious shiny… You shall soon be mine."

Bluestar collapsed on the rock and looked at everyone before mewing, "Tigerclaw, Ravenpaw has told me many things."

Tigerclaw spat out Redtail and quickly scratched some tortoiseshell fur out of his claws. "Ravenpaw says lots of stuff."

"Tigerclaw, you are hereby charged of twenty-seven crimes, in the court of ThunderClan!" Bluestar roared. "And you are legally responsible for Redtail's death! What is your defense against that, Tigey?"

"My defense is a short one, Bluestar." Tigerclaw looked at every gasping cat evenly before holding out a paw and mewing, "I blame it all on Oakheart."

Bluestar shrugged. "That works. Who wants a party?"

"Shouldn't you guys be mourning Redtail's death?" Firepaw asked.

"'Should' is different from 'what we actually do'," Bluestar responded.

"I don't get."

"Good."

Spottedleaf produced her accordion from thin air before proceeding to use it to create a wailing sound that may vaguely and inaccurately be described as music.

Yo, sing me a tale of the deputy,  
'Cuz he's dead now, ya really,

In the StarGang with all our dead parents,

He's livin' it up, no need for rent,

Dustpaw should be sad,

My rhymes are really bad…

At the same time, the she-cat gingerly slapped on wads of white cobwebs onto Ravenpaw as Graypaw mewed through a mouthful of tail, "Shiny is mine! MINE MINE MINE!" Firepaw rolled his eyes, with obvious difficulty. If you were a cat, you would probably have trouble too.

Meanwhile, Tigerclaw, looking quite defiant for so easily squeezing out of his accused twenty-seven crimes, sidled up next to Spottedleaf, his amber eyes filled with all sorts of mischief that would obviously point out that he would end up as a ShadowClan leader. "How is Ravenpaw?" he asked with clenched teeth and unsheathed claws. Certain insanity flew through his eyes so quick that it made a tiny sonic boom. Of course, Firepaw was the only one who could hear the boom, since Spottedleaf was playing her accordion so cruelly that most cats of ThunderClan had either gone deaf or died.

"Welllllll," Spottedleaf continued as the accordion finally hit such a high note that it exploded. "Like OMSTARCLAN!" she shrieked as she held the tattered thing not dared called an instrument by any cat who had heard the sounds from it. She immediately began using the cobwebs meant for Ravenpaw to slap on her instrument of doom and death. The usually calm medicine-cat now rushed back to her den and back. "Let's see," she could be heard murmuring. "Poppy seeds for the pain, marigold for infection… Oh, my dear accordion! Do not cry so loudly! Mummy is coming!" The she-cat paced back and forth as she continued to "heal" her "child."

"Anyway," Tigerclaw growled loudly as Firepaw winced at the sight of his huge claws, which were dangerously close to Ravenpaw's neck. "How is my apprentice anyway? Will he live?"

"Yes, yes," Spottedleaf murmured as she wiped away the tears from her amber eyes as she quickly brought her entire accordion to her den. "Ravenpaw isn't dead yet."

"Mouse-dung!" Tigerclaw growled, shooting a nasty look at the night-shaded apprentice. "Er— I mean, how fortunate." With a small second of thinking he added in a dull voice, "Hurray." He then swiveled his vile head towards Firepaw. "Hm… who're you?"

"He's Firepaw!" Graypaw suddenly mewed as he stalked over with a bunch of black fur in his teeth.

"He smells like he's been with Twolegs," Tigerclaw spat with disdain. Looking at Graypaw, he added, "And you smell like you've been being stupid again. Am I right?"

Graypaw and Firepaw exchanged a quick glance before turning and mumbling, "Yeah" and "Pretty much."

"I do remember Bluestar talking about bringing in some kittypet… Well, Firepaw, good luck. Since you're going to be my mortal enemy and all." The ginger cat shrugged. Since he was obviously the protagonist, he knew not to worry.

Tigerclaw shot him another menacing glare that would have made a crocodile cry actual tears before padding away in his evilness. Suddenly, Ravenpaw broke out of his act. "Is Tigerstar away from ye sights?" he mewed in a quiet voice.

"Well, we can see him," Firepaw said pointedly. "But he's gone. Does that count?"

"MOVE!" All too soon, Spottedleaf was skidding across the clearing. "I have work here to do! You know, they say tennis rackets are made of catgut, so I was thinking, why not accordions?" She shot a malicious glance at Ravenpaw as she spoke, making him fall into an actual faint.

"Er, let's get going if we care about our innards," Graypaw suddenly said uneasily as he side-stepped around the camp.

"Anyway," he continued blandly as he looked about. "Over there's the Highrock; which you already know unless you have short-term memory loss. Bluestar likes to sit up there and complain to us. She sleeps underneath of it in hopes that the rock will crush her flat in her sleep so she doesn't have to put up with us anymore. The den was created when I rammed myself head-on into it as a kit while I was covered in lichen. Thus, I now have a minor brain injury which deludes my common sense." Graypaw cast the stone an affectionate look before moving towards a bush.

"This is where the warriors sleep," Graypaw added. "One day some leader told us to sleep in the uncomfortable bushes rather than a nice nest filled with heather. Since the Clan cats back then were not placed in the 'intelligent life' bracket, no one said anything. Thus it is a common custom to not say anything when you go to rest. The leader also told the senior warriors to go eat in the nettles. Younger warriors keep their distance because they tend to be smarter. However, sometimes the senior warriors sometimes call the younger so that the youngsters can die from the nettle stings. It is a quite effective way of controlling our population."

"What about everyone else?" Firepaw asked, feeling amazed that the senior warriors actually sat in nettle all day.

"Queens go to the nursery if they have kits," Graypaw yawned. "If they aren't, they stick around with the warriors. The elders have their own place too. It has a pool table. Let's go see it." Before Firepaw could mention that he dreaded seeing Strangefoot again, he padded after his gray friend to the fallen tree that carried the stench of old.

And so, the young cats made it to the elderly cats, Dappletail, Smallear, Halftail, and One-eye. Almost immediately, Halftail mewed, "You're that new apprentice right?"

"You really are old if you can't remember the meeting that happened only like five minutes ago," Graypaw retorted. He was hit on the head with a flying dark-brown paw.

"I'm not old, I'm just age-challenged!" Halftail spat as he wagged his half of a tail around vigorously.

"I'm really Firepaw, the new apprentice," he finally spoke with a polite nod.

"I'm Halftail, and I don't like you." The brown tom narrowed his eyes.

"Are you two hungry?" Smallear asked in a soft, whispering mew. They both nodded eagerly. "WELL YOU CAN'T HAVE ANY! BWAHAHAHA!" Smallear grabbed his enormous amount of fresh-kill and moved to the other side of camp.

One-eye leaned over in a grandma-like fashion. "Don't mind him," she meowed firmly. "But if Dappletail doesn't mind…" The tortoiseshell she-cat shook her head.

"I am fat enough, One-eye," she croaked indignantly.

One-eye rolled her clouded eye before chucking them a mouse with her frail elderly gray paw.

"Mmmm… Mouse," Graypaw yawned. "Mouse, like the kind I have every single stupid day of my life. Here, Firepaw, you take plenty." Firepaw sniffed the dead rodent. He took a careful bite…

"Tastes like beef-flavored chicken that looks like salmon," he concluded, thinking of petty kittypet food. "Not bad, actually."

Graypaw, feeling insanely jealous, suddenly scooted himself in and began eating.

"A new deputy," Smallear mewed. "I didn't think Redtail was that old."

"Hey, he didn't die from old age!" Dappletail pointed out. "A monster got him."

"No, it was a Twoleg with a weird book with a ginger on the cover!" Halftail argued. After a quick squabble, they finally returned on topic.

"She better choose a new deputy soon," Dappletail mewed calmly. "After moonhigh, uh… What does happen to deputies appointed after moonhigh anyway?" The elderly cats just shrugged.

"Maybe they lose their kits," piped up Halftail. "Bluestar lost hers before becoming deputy."

Once again, Firepaw listened to them squabble.

"Well, at least we all know who Bluey's going to choose," Smallear finished. Tigerclaw had his ears towards the log. Firepaw shot him a look that could've had made Strangefoot deputy.

And speaking of Strangefoot, the old tom was just about to pad over when Bluestar yowled, "Everyone, get over here! I'm bored and I want a deputy to complain to."

Firepaw padded over with Graypaw and the elders obediently. Bluestar looked over her cats proudly before meowing, "I'm going to sit around with Redtail for a while so I can think back on all the times I whined to him. We're burying him at dawn so we don't have to see his ugly face anymore."

There was a cheer. "And before StarClan," Bluestar added, "I want Redtail to hear what I think as a last requesting complaint..." Tigerclaw was now staring intently at the Highrock. Firepaw was wondering what was up with Tigerclaw's attraction to the rock when Bluestar mewed, "Lionheart is the new deputy of this clan."

There was a shout of joy as Lionheart stalked forward to take his deputyship. "I-I," he stammered, "I would like to thank my mom and my dad for their unfailing support in what has led me to tonight," he managed through his sobs. "I will be the best and most important deputy ThunderClan has ever seen! Although I cannot guarantee that you'll be freed from your regular duties every two days, or that…"

The golden tabby talked and talked and talked. After three hours straight of talking, every cat had left, and it had become quite apparent that Lionheart was speaking just to hear his own voice, occasionally referring to "the cats who made it possible for this night."

Firepaw yawned after listening to Lionheart. Indeed, it seemed that certain words induced sleepiness—and it happened that Lionheart used these words with every single sentence. Inadvertently, he followed Graypaw to some bushy ferns behind a tree stump. "Who's with us, anyway?" Firepaw murmured.

"Me, you, Ravenpaw, Dustpaw, and Sandpaw," Graypaw answered in a way similar to a robot. He sat by the stump, muttering something about shiny things, as a pale red she-cat with light strips of tabby fur strode by them. Her green eyes glittered with mischief.

"Now what do we have here?" she meowed, not letting her sarcasm go unnoticed. "Could it be a kittypet? A pretty little kittypet? Why Graypaw, did you find this pretty little kitty all by yourself? Did the pretty kitty follow you home? And is Auntie Bluestar letting you keep the pretty kitty?" Every word was a sharp double-bladed sneer. Firepaw blinked defiantly, secretly thinking that she was pretty cute with that attitude…

"Hey, just because he's pretty doesn't mean you have to be a hater," Graypaw responded loudly enough to attract the ever-observant ears of Whitestorm.

Sandpaw rolled her eyes. "What's his name then? Fluffy, perhaps?"

Whitestorm was immediately by them, putting his glasses farther up his near-vertical nose. "Now, now, if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all." He pulled out a book on the number phi, not to be confused with pi, as he added, "You have to go to sleep anyway, Sandpaw. Just be glad his name isn't Gangsterpaw." Sandpaw snorted as she padded off to find her bed, with Firepaw and Graypaw hurrying after.

"And in case you're wondering, Fluffy," Sandpaw growled as she circled well over seventeen times around her nest, "This half of the quarters is mine!" As if to prove it, she added more moss to cover half of the sleeping space. Graypaw and Firepaw both shrugged. And Firepaw gave only a miniscule kind of shrug.

He quickly slapped together some moss and lichen before circling into his new bed. As he rested his head, he felt oddly surprised to think that his being in the wild wasn't so bad. He was a ThunderClanner now. And as he drifted to sleep, dreams of Spottedleaf's accordion and mice with scythes raced through his mind, like clouds on a rainy day…

* * *

I'll keep updating... But Chapter 5 is dauntingly long. WAH! 


	6. Chapter 5: Of Tigerclaw and Audubon

The randomness returnsIt's a long chapter, as I said. But I updated! Be happy or Bluey's gonna get'cha!

_**Chapter Five: Of Tigerclaw and Audubon**_

Mudpelt brought his flea-infested henna paw over his shredded ears several times, before he realised it was pointless to do it without licking his paw first. Well, the tortoiseshell was old. He cast an amber glare at the younger cats and said in a gruff mew, "Uh… the end." He proceeded to yawn a wide yawn. The kits' eyes each other nervously. Turtlekit nodded to Saberkit; green eyes locked for a minute but they all knew who would say it.

"But Mudpelt," Saberkit said in the special whine of kits, "It can't be over! Firepaw hasn't killed anything yet."

"And where does Darth Vader, evil Twoleg and original caretaker of Rusty, come in?" Bluekit added. The kits nodded wisely.

Mudpelt sighed. He, as a storyteller, owed them nothing but complete honesty. "I have a confession."

Rosekit gasped in a collective manner, Turtlekit narrowed her eyes to sea-green slits and Inner Saberkit was yelling, _There's a lull now! Tell them how you really feel about their aggressive actions and tell them you love them anyway! Quick!_

"I-I-I'm," Mudpelt sputtered out breathlessly, "I'm a tortoiseshell male. I defy the laws of genetics."

"Mudpelt, wrong story," Rosekit informed with a not-so-nice expression on her face. "And that would be a story that I would never read despite how pretty the cover is."

"Redtail's a male tortoiseshell," piped up Wolfkit.

Silence.

"Uh…anyway, it's not the end," Mudpelt admitted. The kits showed no surprise but listened with rapt attention. "This is the first lesson Firepaw had…"

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

"Firepaw, from this moment you will be known as—"

……………………………………………………………………………………………

"WRONG PART!" the kits screeched.

"Oh yeah," Mudpelt murmured. He had actually been hoping to finish the story and be cheap, but… he twitched his whiskers and continued, "Ahem, his first lesson started like this…"

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

Birds chirped, unaware of the petty problems of the cats who shared the forest. It was a busy morning—the ferns ruffled in the quivering breeze and a sweet scent promised greenleaf was not so far away. The ThunderClan camp was already awake, with warriors out towards the horizon, a sky drenched in rosy hues. In ShadowClan, Brokenstar was thinking up something devious that would show all the Clans to make fun of him and his weird tail. But more devious than Brokenstar was young Graypaw. Within the ferns, he managed to dodge the half of the nest claimed by Sandstorm and managed to get close to Firepaw's mossy nest.

"Firepaw!" he yowled, his gray fur erect. "ShadowClan is attacking! StarClan is walking among us and they are VERY shiny! A warrior spy is attacking Sandpaw!" The long-haired gray tom then closed his amber eyes and looked for "the shiny within." And then, he realised the pure shininess of Firepaw's tail and bit down hard. Firepaw's green eyes were open in a flash. Graypaw lumbered up the Sandy Hollow while pawing at shiny things while Firepaw blindly launched himself towards Sandpaw's pale ginger form. She screeched as Firepaw sliced at dark tabby fur. "I'll save you, Sandpaw!"

And the unfortunate brown tabby Dustpaw, whose fur grew sparse by Firepaw's suicidal courage, turned his head to look at the red tom with a look of so many emotions Firepaw started thinking about cupcakes. Sandpaw, who wasn't having the best week, shrieked, "DIE!" That day, flame-coloured fur decorated the ferns.

An aeon or so later, Firepaw missing almost all of his dignity and most of his fur stumbled across the ravine as white clouds raced across a powdery-blue sky. He followed the sure scent of Graypaw—a smell akin to fire—to the training hollow, where Tigerclaw fumed. "I'm going to cut off your last shred of dignity just because you're late!"

Firepaw was seriously considering getting up and jumping Graypaw to kill him, but the gray tom was dying of laughter anyway. Lionheart promptly mewed, "Tigerclaw is right, Firepaw. Even if my speech took all the time to four minutes until dawn to finish there's no excuse for oversleeping."

"By the way," Tigerclaw growled, thinking about how he could murder Lionheart so he just wouldn't have to put up with Lionheart's speeches (which were really a better tranquilizer than anything else in the world). "Bluey's too lazy and wants to sit around at camp and complain to the elders, so me and Waxwhisker here are going to share your training."

"I _starch _them, not wax them, and there is a very big difference!" Lionheart spat back indignantly.

Before Tigerclaw could roll his eyes, sirens rang out through all of ThunderClan. Graypaw's hackles were raised and his long gray fur was fluffed out. More importantly, his paw was on a loudspeaker, which was set on "Make-loud-and-extremely-annoying-siren-noises Mode." At once, Graypaw was nose-to-nose with Tigerclaw, his amber eyes flaring. He produced the speaker again and screeched: "This is Graypaw, part of the elite Grammar Police! 'Me and Waxwhisker' is a severe violation of the 37th section of the Literacy Movement, as referenced in Article 784! The punishments for such actions are—'' Lionheart was nodding and smiling, nodding and smiling, for that crazy cat to go away.

"_Anyway_," Tigerclaw growled, inching back with everyone else from Graypaw, who was engraving the report he was going to send to the ministry on his Nobel Peace Prize, "We're going to walk around the territory so when I'm out singing about my angsty childhood, you'll—you didn't hear that!" As soon as the word "sing" had come into their hearing, they had begun down the Twoleg path.

Tigerclaw stopped at a clump of ferns. He paused and picked up one of the spray-paint cans by them, shaking it with his tail. In gangster-type font, the brown tabby sprayed the clump of ferns:

TigerclaW Wuz HeRe!

The red letters shone in light enough for Graypaw to be distracted from his report and he went over to poke the shininess. Tigerclaw bitterly complained under his breath, "Spottedleaf shouldn't be allowed to make Clan policies."

"Firepaw, what do you smell?" Lionheart asked.

"I smell myself… and mustard. Y'know, from the gallon we chugged here yesterday?" Graypaw looked genuinely curious, but Lionheart kept walking into some pines. Before Firepaw could get high off the spray-paint fumes, he was pushed by Tigerclaw into the woods.

"Twolegs planted these," Tigerclaw explained, nodding towards the needled pines that towered far above them. "At least that's what my mentor told me. I wasn't born to see these trees' planting.

Everyone, even Lionheart, swung their heads towards him.

"Hey, I'm not that old!" Tigerclaw insisted. "In fact, I think Goldenflower and I might be getting somewhere." Firepaw desperately tried not to think about it, and all of the party started to quicken their pace to get farther from the SENIOR warrior.

"Like I was saying," Tigerclaw mumbled, his Inner Self crying, _Why don't they believe me any more? I'm an emotional being too! The Equal Rights Movement rocks! It makes me want to sing when I go out to angst on the borders! _"The Twolegs plant these trees as a sacrifice to their deity, the tree-eater. That way, the trees are used instead of the wood from old-growth forests, thus protecting hundreds of endangered Spotted Owls—I do not have a subscription with Audubon or the World Wildlife Foundation!" he added hastily as Firepaw began to narrow his eyes. So that was why Tigerclaw never ate birds.

The ginger tom tried to hear the deity. Graypaw, using his little-recognised mind-reading powers that he obtained from winning the Noble Peace Prize (why else would anyone want one? For world peace, you say? HA!) said, "The deity only comes during greenleaf. That's because the deity is off punishing idiots who don't have proper grammar all the other seasons, and it only has time to attack everyone here during summer. I've been hit twice now." Graypaw's voice was filled with adoration as he cast a loving glance back into the pines. It was pretty apparent where Graypaw had been ran over, and what it had done.

They continued on. Lionheart nodded of towards Twolegplace. "That's where you used to live. But if you don't remember that, I would be very afraid. So, to not face your evident mental illness, we will keep going to RiverClan." He slowed to catch up with Firepaw and added in a low whisper, "It's okay—I know all about mental illness."

"Oh, I'm sure you do," Firepaw muttered as they crossed a Twoleg path and made it to some oak woods.

"RiverClan," Graypaw mewed, accidentally swinging his muzzle into _very_ sharp rocks. And that was how, through a flurry of—erm—colourful language Firepaw learned they were at Sunningrocks.

Lionheart stopped at a rock. It was both flat and gray. Unknown to the cats, it came from NASA's failed attempt to bring back a fossil found on Mars:

"_Gee, Charlie, do you reckon this rock is worth anything?" Nathan Collier, the world's foremost expert on fossils asked as he took the Martian fossil from a bag called "Rocks for throwing at windows."_

"_I doubt it," replied Charlie, an expert astronaut and rock collector, who was watching the World Cup on the portable TV during the company picnic. "Will you get me a Cherry Coke before you go off to throw that rock at cats?"_

"Breathe, Firepaw," Lionheart said. "You keep forgetting to. We're on the RiverClan border. RiverClan owns the river and the land up there. Obviously."

Firepaw took his first breath for a long time. The buzzing in his head stopped momentarily. It restarted as a new scent blasted the roof of his mouth. The scent of RiverClan was almost suspicious—yes, even _fishy_—in comparison to the warm, soil-scent of ThunderClan.

"This is where the warriors of RiverClan have their river dances, and where they key the gates to Atlantis," Tigerclaw's eyes glazed over and the faint murmur of "Cupcakes" slipped from his maw. Ravenpaw was not the only one to have learned drama from the late Redtail.

Tigerclaw went on to spray another Martian fossil, more recently lost when NASA hosted their rock-skipping contests. In the same twisted font, the words shone:

TigerclaW Wuz HeRe! He HaXes youR cupCaKeS.

"Let's head off to Fourtrees so when I come back I can tell how Firepaw tragically fell down the hill, being saved by me, impressing Bluestar like nothing I've ever devised before!" Lionheart roared, prancing off

"What's Fourtrees?" asked Firepaw.

"There are four trees there," Tigerclaw answered. It was one of those days.

The travelers crossed a stream to get to the ravine; it mocked them as they crawled up six hours since beginning their trek. It really did mock them. Six hours to get to Fourtrees the long way!

"The Clans gather here so the leaders can complain to each other," Lionheart explained, nodding to the ugly Great Rock, surrounded by the four oak trees, which were just unfurling green leaves. "WindClan isn't very smart, so they decided to live in the gorses in the worst hills. And ShadowClan is so cool; they live where the cool winds of the north blow them over in the dark forest-marshland. We're really prejudiced, so just because something in relation to darkness is in ShadowClan's name, they're evil. Got it? Good. It's on my reputation."

"Four Clans," Firepaw said solemnly. Clouds appeared out of nowhere and lightning hit the ginger tom, scorching his fur black.

"FIVE Clans," the clouds roared. Firepaw managed to shake off the worst of the electricity. The other cats looked like it wasn't the first time they had seen it happen. And Tigerclaw looked like it had happened to him—twice.

"Anyway, our leaders are greedy fat-heads, so we protect our prey," Lionheart mewed.

"That's_ almost_ as if Graypaw made that rule up!" Firepaw gasped. "Why not just share the land!"

There was silence as the cats realised how stupid they had been all that time. Tigey felt rather inspired… but this is Tigerclaw we're talking about…"I'm going to mercilessly discriminate your lowly origins now for no apparent reason. Uh… You're a kittypet! It's gonna make you a traitor at the time of attack! And you had the collar… Uh…" Tigerclaw, like Longtail not long ago, was desperately trying to think of something bad to say about collars.

"He speaks from the almightiness of The Obvious," Lionheart mewed calmly. "It will prevent him from being chased into gorges with a pack of dogs behind him. I hope."

"Gatherings are held every full moon. There's a truce then because everyone is immobilised from the sound of so much complaining."

"There's one tonight," Firepaw said in a flat, all-knowing tone. "This is getting thick."

"Der… Clan loyalty?" Tigerclaw piped up.

They crossed the stream, the sun set, Redtail wrote up a new play in StarClan, and the scent of ShadowClan blasted the top of Firepaw's mouth. He knew it was ShadowClan because it wasn't explained that long ago. Then they made it to the stony Thunderpath. In the same flat tone, Firepaw meowed, "Thunderpath. WoOoOooOoOOOoOoooo."

A monster passed by, its paws rumbling the foul ground, its maw widened! Red eyes were slits as it turned, instantly turning Firepaw and his friends into pancakes before tearing through all of the Clans and killing everyone! The End! HAPPY END!

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

"'HAPPY END!'?" Turtlekit mewed with her face screwed up in confusion. Mudpelt nodded. "What in StarClan is a 'HAPPY END!'?"

"Meh thoughts 'xactly, young gal," a croaky voice rasped. In the darkness of the den was Foxfur, a red long-haired tom with a single golden eye. "Tell 'em the truth, Muddster."

"Why don't you? Always throwing your problems on me," Mudpelt murmured darkly as he brought the remains of his fresh-kill closer to his sides. "And if you want any—you can't have any! HA!"

"The one-eyed look's in style," Saberkit muttered under his breath as he looked at the single gleaming eye of Foxfur.

"Anywho, wutevah," Foxfur said in that gruff way of his. "Here's it go…"

…………………………………………………………………………………………

The monster flashed by, leaving Firepaw's pelt on edge from the blast of heavy metal music that the driver had been listening too. Firepaw had also learned many more colourful words Graypaw hadn't mentioned at Sunningrocks.

"Let's go home," Lionheart meowed. "I have to starch my whiskers for the Gathering."

"What about Snakerocks?" Tigerclaw asked in a devious tone.

"Remember what happened last time?"

-----! FLASHBACK !-----

(Note: Slightly inaccurate.)

"I like cheeses!" Tigerclaw mewed on top of a sand-toned rock. Suddenly, a horde of meatballs hit him on the head and Tigey fell. "Oh noey! Who shall saveth me!"

Snakes the size of Colby cheese wheels started to dive-bomb out of the rift in the sky that led to Atlantis. They hitchhiked on a plane. A passing producer gasped and said, "Snakes on a Plane!"

The pilot of this plane was none other than Lionheart! He swooped down and saved the brown tabby. The orchestra that always followed Lionheart began to play. Yes, the First Chair Comb-and-tissue-paperist began playing the 1812 overture as the First Chair Pen Clickist joined in astonishing harmony. In a great explosion of randomness, the snakes became stiff and were cut up to be sold as microchips. Thus, computers were born and Lionheart gained billions.

On the other paw, when an unsuspected meatball was thrown at him Tigerclaw, he lost his sense of taste. This lack of taste is still seen in him today. HAPPY END!

-----! END FLASHBACK !-----

And so, the cats padded back to camp. Then Firepaw and Graypaw ate, Sandpaw was Sandpaw, Dustpelt was just there, and Firepaw snuck away to get back to sleep since he wasn't chosen for this Gathering. He collapsed in his ferns to get back to that dream he had left so reluctantly that morning—the one when he was saving Sandpaw from a ShadowClan warrior.

And then there was a Gathering of absolutely no consequence to the fate of the Clans.

The next morning, just as hot as the next, Firepaw was able to reluctantly wake from his "I'm Sandpaw's hero" dream when a strange sort of wheezing screech raked his ears, which were still ringing from the blast of heavy metal yesterday.

"You fell in love with a RiverClan cat!"

He blinked to see Spottedleaf and her cobweb-covered accordion by the moving lump of fur that was Graypaw. "Got it? RiiiivvvverrrClan caaat!"

"Uh," was all Firepaw said as he cast a confused gaze on the snoring Graypaw.

Spottedleaf gasped, drawing her accordion closer. "No—you ain't part of the Brotherhoodly Sisterhood of Thy Twoleg Deity! Ya don't got the bling, dawg!" Just under her paws, Firepaw could see gold letters announcing 'Spot's got the Bling yo.' "You've intercepted my ritual for the hood, yo!" Spottedleaf pulled out a pineapple from the darkness and placed in on her head as she muttered, "Yo, StarGang, don't be the Bromeliad upon my h to the hizzle head." With that, Spottedleaf was off to her den, ranting about falling in love with RiverClan cats.

Graypaw awakened after her paws were back to where she had been performing illegal surgeries on Ravenpaw's innards. He yawned and thought for a moment how nice RiverClan cats and pineapples were. They were all so shiny. Without a word, the two set off along with a very frail-looking Ravenpaw to the Sandy Hollow. The black cat with only a dash of white on his tail decided to angst away on the other side of the hollow.

"Don't go emo on us!" Graypaw blurted out. "Or Goth… But I guess couldn't help being Goth…"

"Tigerclaw…" he kept muttering, along with stunningly accurate information about his unrelenting desire for cupcakes.

About five minutes later, Lionheart and Tigerclaw came in arguing about Whitestorm/Bluestar shipping. Then Tigerclaw, growling that it was quite obvious Bluestar was in love with herself, snapped towards Ravenpaw and added, "Say one thing pertaining to your injury and I'm going to kill you."

"Okay."

"I'm going to kill you!" Tigerclaw said, leaping literally at the opportunity. He unsheathed his claws but a rogue meatball (from one of Whitestorm's combination of time probability and catapult experiments) hit him between his ears, thus crushing him into the dust.

"We're going to be cheap and practise stalking," Lionheart mewed. "Now, there's a big difference between stalking on the Internet and stalking a mouse and rabbit. Why?"

"Mice are capable of chasing you down and pinning you. Thus, you have to crush it back on the way down," Graypaw answered.

"So you'll have to…"

"Step lightly to attract them, and then when they start fighting, crush all of their bones on the way down?"

"Right! Go into a hunting crouch so Tigerclaw can comment on how badly you're doing—I mean so I can evaluate your progress and slightly exaggerate it when I tell Bluestar and thus impress her further."

Graypaw and Ravenpaw, despite the fact their training had been anything but sane, went into decent crouches. "Graypaw's got awesome form. And he is fat enough to crush even a kitten on the way down," Lionheart said proudly.

"I am not fat! Just fluffy," Graypaw protested.

Lionheart was already nodding and smiling, his golden mane bobbing up and down as well.

"Duckbutt!" Tigerclaw spat at Ravenpaw. "You're like half the population in their attempts to do push-ups! Firepaw, you crouch so I can belittle my apprentice some more."

Tigerclaw's pale amber eyes almost became a death glare so Firepaw crouched to avoid his full gaze and proceeded to inch away. "You look just like the fat, lumbering kittypet you are! D'you think the prey's going to jump into your parted jaws? Well, I got news for you—they only do it on Canada Day!" Tigerclaw's scarred nose was now touching Firepaw's.

"Don't do that Tigerclaw; your odour is unpleasant," Lionheart mewed. Tigerclaw self-consciously pulled back and sniffed his tabby fur. "Firepaw is pretty much balanced to avoid the way the air is bringing your stink to him."

"Unlike Duckbutt of the left!" Tigerclaw added.

"He's injured is all!" Firepaw meowed. "Both physically and emotionally from verbal abuse from a cat he trusts (in this specific case, his mentor) which significantly reduces self-esteem and self-image, leading to an increase of serotonin in the brain, which could possibly fray the dendrites of the neurons that release such chemicals (for more information of this, search for an entry on synapses). Such could mentally scar his life decisions, leading to drug abuse, suicide, nerdiness, perfectionism, obesity, development of a violent complex, depression, anorexia or other eating disorders, schizophrenia, paranoia or even an unprecedented fear or garden tomatoes. The major effects of these are kidney failure, heart attack, stroke, lung cancer, death, boringness, cult-forming and/or joining, a refusal to start certain tasks, a refusal to marry, self-denial, weight gain, infanticide, fratricide, first-degree murder, death, self-mutilation, extreme weight loss, a lack of appetite, hearing voices, listening to voices, doing what the voices say, developing shuddering habits, or an absolute rise in blood pressure whenever a tomato in even thought of. It may also lead to extreme sleeplessness, and serial killing." Everyone just stared at Firepaw. Even Lionheart hadn't the time to begin nodding and smiling.

"If Ravenpaw were like you, he'd be getting college credits rather than being a humiliation to me," Tigerclaw sputtered.

"Just because I'm a kittypet doesn't mean I haven't taken any classes at Harvard," grumbled Dr Firepaw darkly.

"Hey look! I'm breaking the tension!" Graypaw broke out of his crouch to become a pose strikingly similar to Lionheart's. "Here's my impression of Lionheart!" He primped up his whiskers and began licking his long-gray fur madly, as if it would never get clean. "Oy, you, Firepaw, you're relax-scent is making me look bad. _Oh StarClan_, here comes Bluey!" Graypaw was suddenly flatly on his hind feet, jabbing at the air as he yelled, "Ravenpaw! Go hunt for the day at Snakerocks. Whitestorm, Runningwind, Mousefur—you're all lazy—go patrol the RiverClan border. Spottedleaf—step away from Ravenpaw and find one of the elders to… contribute to your music-playing skills. Graypaw, fetch me a mouse! Bossing around cats and grooming in excess is a difficult job! I'll go boss my prey to death."

"Graypaw, don't make me use your flamethrower against you because I am not afraid to start flamethrowering you!" Lionheart growled, although "flamethrowering" is yet to be added in any English dictionary. "Why don't you pretend you're intelligent, productive apprentices and go stalk something?"

All of the apprentices turned brightly towards the golden tabby. Graypaw had a light bulb pop over his head.

"Oops, sorry about that—shiiiny…" Graypaw dreamily pawed the bulb until it turned into a golden donut.

"Ravenpaw, go to Owltree."

"Try to get eaten by the owl," Tigerclaw added brightly.

"Graypaw, there might be something in that bramble thicket."

"Entangle in it and die!"

"And Firepaw, follow the rabbit track to the dry bed of a winter stream."

"May rain come from nowhere and drown you."

The apprentices launched away, mainly because Tigerclaw was scaring them.

Firepaw followed the unmistakable trail of rabbit footprints up to the top of the rise that started the dry creek—one could tell because a yet to explode half-sunken H-Bomb was safely in the bed.

He snaked down the bank, his thoughts focused on cheese and its relevance to social disorders when mouse-scent suddenly hit the roof of his mouth. He used his exquisite hearing to capture the impulses of a rapidly beating heart, of whiskers twitching, of feet lightly stepping across the cold, wet ground. Firepaw stepped forward. His prey was looking in the wrong direction. This would be easy. He launched from his hiding spot among the ferns, his fore-claws outstretched as the feeling of something very soft, like a ball of fluffy white dandelion seeds, was now safely in between his padded feet.

"Do you not agree that the killing and devouring of mice is both vulgar and cruel?" the rodent asked in a high-pitched voice.

"What else am I going to do?"

"I know a lobster…"

"Keep talking. You might have a deal here."

-----! ONE FANFICTION LATER !-----

Firepaw dropped the red arachnid at Lionheart's and Tigerclaw's feet. "It's a lobster of the sea," he explained. "They say they have many traits common with spiders."

The two mentors, too proud to admit their ignorance murmured, "Okay" and "As long as it doesn't move too much." Firepaw was a truly dorky ThunderClan apprentice at last.

* * *

The next chapter is really short, so hopefully I'll get that up soon. I'm also making a website for FACSOC! Watch this story! 


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